Memento Mori
by Starlit Skyline
Summary: Set in DH, no-yaoi/no-slash. Lelouche Lamperogue, two-hundred-year-old immortal, lives a bland, boring life. When Death Eaters attack the small village he, and his companion, Suzaku, had taken refuge in their secrets are put at great risk as the Wizarding Community sticks their noses into where they really don't belong.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I, the writer of this fanfiction, do not, in any shape or form, own Harry Potter or Code Geass. Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. Code Geass is the property of Ichirō Ōkouchi. The idea and plotline of this fanfiction are my property. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story. I write for my own enjoyment. **

Prologue

How does a legend come to be? There are cases in which the tale is completely fabricated, a patchwork of imagination, with not an ounce of truth. There are, however, those "stories" that are, or _were_, entirely true, but became so bloated and exaggerated by the gossip-tongued masses that it became too warped to recognize the reality of it. The common-people fill it with exaggerations and things that couldn't possibly be true, and slowly, the truth becomes twisted, history becomes a bed-time story and the story descends into myth. From there, it's anyone's guess what actually happened.

If I told you of a grand Empire, and an Emperor with many children all fighting for his throne – well, you've probably all heard this kind of fairytale before. It is a classic tale, and it has it's twists and turns as all the rest. In this giant nest of aristocrats there once was a Prince, the Eleventh Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, who had just lost his mother and was now left with a blind and crippled little sister.

It was because of this girl – this young, now helpless six-year-old – that one of the greatest, most ruthless Emperor of Britannia was birthed.

The 99th Emperor, a glorified boogie-man to children and a demon incarnate to adults; conqueror and liberator; strategic genius and ruthless sovereign, once instigator of a grand rebellion and many, many things more that the world will never know – but what he was most remarkable at was his acting. You could say his entire life was a play, orchestrated and twisted by the strings of fate. Be assured he was a brilliant actor – so brilliant, in fact, that he had managed to fool everyone – even his own little sister, and himself, on occasion. He had a flare of the dramatics, and in that fashion, he played out his own death.

The punishment of the Demon Emperor was Death. The punishment of the Knight of Zero, his enemy and closest friend and everything in between, was to continue to Live.

When the Demon Emperor had fallen, toppled down from his throne and next to his shell-shocked sister, and as Nunally touched her brother, tears of grief bubbling from her eyes – she saw it. She saw loyalty and bloodshed, the first battle won and the last battle fraught. She heard screams and desperate cries, for family members, for friends, for brothers in all but blood calling each other traitor and shouting words in hatred. She felt tears, frustration, and maybe even a tinge of madness, but also hope, happiness in rare, jaded places and perhaps most shocking of all, _love._ Because, after all, her Brother had done all this for her. "I destroy worlds... and I create them." and he had been true to his words – because a perfect world was built on the ruins of another, a house on the ruins of its' predecessor, a good life on that of the suffering.

But after seeing these memories, Nunally di Britannia grew scared. In her grief and fright of all the bloodshed her brother had committed, she ordered all advanced weapons, war machines and everything else that had once been common in the military banned and destroyed. Science labs which worked on manufacturing such monstrosities were shut down and burnt to the ground – and all evidence that such things had even existed was all but erased, and only the memory lingered in those who had seen them, used and felt their destructive power. Zero had supported her wholeheartedly.

Years passed, and the world had grown lethargic in its' now peaceful existence – and for a glorious half a century no one had invoked war. Then the 100th Emperess died. It was like a bubble had been popped, like all safety and bliss had vanished – because Nunally had not chosen a successor, and all her relatives wanted her throne, her power, her title as _ultimate ruler._

In their greed, their lust for power, they besmirched her memory, all that she had stood for and the world she had created. Nunally, on her part, had done a brilliant thing by destroying the Knightmare Frames – not one was left in existence! – and any advanced battle ships like Schneizel's Avalon had been. Still, that did not stop the war from braking out.

Zero – the Hero, the Savior, the very Symbol of Peace – was unable to stop any of it, and one day, he just _disappeared._ No one knew what happened to him, exactly. Some say he took his own life, because of his grief over the Empress, and the remnants of a world destroyed because of human selfishness. Some claim he was assassinated, murdered by the vary people he was sworn to protect. Some think he abandoned them in their time of need, some ponder that it wouldn't have made much of a difference either way.

The planet dissolved into chaos, and suddenly, the common-folk found that they did not want this war that was thrust upon them – to fight one another, to kill their friends, relatives and kinsmen simply because they found themselves in apposing armies – nothing but toy soldiers in the hands of spoiled children.

Revolution spread across the continents like wildfire, war broke out, lives were taken, weapons clashed, new, independent countries were formed, blood soaked the earth like rain – and the world under the 100th Empress became just a distant memory in the minds of those old enough to remember those forgotten times.

And after the ash had settled, and the blood of the last remaining Royals split, there was nothing left of Britannia but a whisper in folktales and a history forged in the lies of the Demon Emperor.

* * *

Lelouche vi Britannia, the once feared and hated Demon Emperor, was not a force to be trifled with – especially in the unholy hours of the morning. Even after nearly two-hundred years, he was still as grumpy as ever when sleep-deprived.

It didn't help that the guy he shared his house with was one of the loudest people he knew.

Now, he'd lived with Kururugi Suzaku for three centuries, and greatly appreciated his company – even if he didn't admit it often and even though Suzaku could annoy the heck out of him – Suzaku's snoring seemed to be the greatest problem so far. It didn't help the fact that Lelouche was an insomniac – nights planning his revenge and orchestrating the Black Rebellion, and later Zero Requiem, had left their mark. Tonight, however, there was no incessant snoring coming from the next room (and Lelouche still couldn't understand how he could still hear Suzaku through a solid, brick _wall). _So why, for the name of Britannia, was he unable to sleep?! It was just one of those nights, he guessed.

Lulu sighed before making his way out of his bedroom, intent on entertaining himself with something now that it was apparent he wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep - it was already 4:30 AM, the sun would be rising soon. _This sucks, _he thought bitterly. Lelouche contemplated going downstairs to watch TV, but dismissed the idea – there was nothing interesting to watch at this hour, despite maybe something about crime – but he usually figured out the mystery before the characters even knew what was happening around them. Maybe a book then? No, he'd already read them all. That only left one option – Suzaku. While he was reluctant to wake Suzaku just because _he _couldn't sleep, Lelouche was feeling exceptionally grumpy tonight and, though he was loath to admit it, he really needed the company. It was sleepless nights like these that reminded him just how alone the two of them truly were.

For _three centuries _they had lived in hiding and semi to complete isolation. It was C.C. fault, he'd decided long ago, because the boorish woman always had something to do with messing up his plans. Lulu hadn't meant to become immortal, but C.C. had tricked him into it, forfeiting her own immortality to him. Suzaku... was completely and utterly his fault. He should have been more careful with his Geass, should have been more specific with his Geass, instead he-

_Live!_

-cursed his most loyal knight, his once-enemy, his _best friend_ to eternal damnation – because so far, that was how immortality was turning out to be.

Lelouche frowned, pushing those thoughts away – he should know better than to dwell on those things. He sighed, looking around the empty hall on the second floor for some kind of distraction. His gaze traveled over the bookshelf, past the door to Suzaku's bedroom, the door to the bathroom, the window-

Then something caught his eye, a flash of light, and he only had a second before that _something_ crashing through the window. Lelouche was thrown back, landing on his side, momentarily stunned. Heat – great, blistering heat filled the room as smoke rose up from the burning carpet – fire. Fire, smoke, someone was trying to burn him!

He looked around frantically, before his eyes caught the sight beyond his broken window.

Fire, bright and untamed, covered the streets.

Suzaku chose that moment to open his bedroom door, green eyes wide in alarm. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lelouche knew this _really _wasn't the time for small-talk. He grabbed Suzaku by the wrist, yanking him down the stairs. They ran to the front hall, and Lelouche grabbing the phone as he went and hastily dialed the number of the Fire Department. He dimly heard Suzaku's shouted questions as he quickly reported the fire and it's location before the line went dead.

They ran across the front lawn – Suzaku had gone silent by now – they needed to evacuate the people, needed to get somewhere safe until help arrived.

Screams mingled with the crackling of the flames. Fire blazed across the streets of the small village, atop the rooftops and within burning houses, but what really caused alarm bells to go off in Lelouche's head were the unlikely bunch in the middle of it all, waving strange sticks (?) madly that went off like confetti and causing even more chaos. Streaks of green lightning soared between the flames, hitting screaming people who were trying to escape. All who were hit fell to the ground, unmoving.

For a fragment of a second, Lelouche froze, taking in the smell of burn wood, flesh and blood and the sight of the bodies sprawled listlessly on the ground. Suzaku, however, sprang into action, guided by years of training, now centuries old. "Move!" the Japanese boy yelled, tackling his friend to the ground just as a jet of green light flew above their heads. Suzaku was back on his feet not a second later, yanking Lelouche off the ground.

"Lelouche, what's going on?!"

It was all happening too fast, the turn of events too abrupt for Lelouche to truly comprehend the situation – only one thought was clear his stunned mind: "We need to get away!" Disbelieving eyes turned to stare at him, "But the villagers!" Suzaku protested, looking horrified. Lelouche grit his teeth, trying to make Suzaku understand just how hopeless the situation really was. "You know what will happen if we get caught!" he yelled, a note of desperation entering his voice "Please, Suzaku, I don't want to have to go through that again!"

Lelouche remembered all too well when his – uh, "condition" – was revealed. It had happen years ago, when C.C. was still alive. He and Suzaku had somehow gotten involved in a gang fight – he had been piss-ass drunk, back then he had a habit of drinking away his misery – and Suzaku had just manage to drag him out of the bar. He didn't remember much, just being disoriented and in pain. Suzaku had managed to defend them pretty well, but it was twelve against one and the Japanese boy had been subdued quickly enough. Somewhere in the fray, Lelouche had managed to get himself stabbed – but, he was immortal, and that meant he wasn't going to die anytime soon.

When their attackers realized that he wasn't dead, and more importantly that the stab wound was all but gone they had been afraid, and curious. They'd dragged him and Suzaku to some abandoned building and beat him, cut him – just to see how quick he would heal.

Then they turned greedy, thinking of how to use him and how much money they could earn if they sold him to some scientists.

Then they turned their abuse on Suzaku, to see if he shared Lelouche's unnatural abilities.

While Suzaku was immortal and his body didn't age, that didn't mean he couldn't be _hurt_. Suzaku, unlike him, didn't have a ridiculously quick healing rate – and he _could _die from physical injuries, illness, blood-loss, poisoning and all other kinds of death that Lelouche did not like to dwell on.

C.C. and Jeremiah had come to their rescue, and to this day he wasn't sure how they even knew anything was wrong, but that had been some _hours_ later – hours filled with pain and blood and Suzaku's agonized screams.

Lelouche had sworn to himself that from that day on that he wouldn't touch alcohol ever again.

Suzaku's expression grew somber, and he gave a slight nod in understanding, his eyes gentle "Okay."

"And where do you think you're going, you pathetic little muggles?" Lelouche tensed, spinning around to see a woman – dressed in all black, covered with a thick cloak – standing a few feet behind them. Lelouche cursed himself. How could he let an enemy get so close? Granted, it had been three centuries he had to participate in a fight of this magnitude – where had his brilliant, strategic mind gone off to? Was he actually going _senile _in his old age?

The woman's face was harsh, filled with sadistic glee. Her grin was unsettling and there was something not quite sane in her eyes as she advanced ever closer to them. Lelouche tensed even further, ready to fight or flee if need be. "Did you honestly think you could escape me?! Fools!" the woman let lose another jet of light from her stick and Lelouche felt his heart stop when he realized it wasn't headed towards him, but straight for Suzaku. Without thought or hesitation, he threw himself in its' path.

The light hit him square in the chest – it didn't hurt, not exactly – but he suddenly felt as cold as if he had been prancing in the Siberian snow in his bathing suit – before his body went numb and the familiar sensation of his dying body filled his mind.

A couple of seconds later, that felt like an eternity to Lulu, he drew breath, finding himself draped over Suzaku's back.

Suzaku was running, Suzaku was carrying him – which meant they had either managed to escape the crazy woman or were doing so now. Lelouche smiled weakly, feeling tired and drained, before his eyes slipped closed once again.

* * *

**AN: Okay, I know this is terribly clichéd, but somehow that's the way it turned out and I don't have a decent excuse for it. I'll elaborate on the timeline in future chapters, but I'm not giving too much away, since this is just a teaser.**

**I want to see what people think of this before posting more chapters – if I do decide to continue this, which more or less depends on the interest people put in it – so basically, it's the usual "review and I will update" which I think we're all familiar with.**

**So, review, please? **


	2. Alea Iacta Est

**Warning: Character death (OCs) and some slightly disturbing content. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: Forgot to do this last chapter, but honestly, we all know the drill. Disclaimed.**

**xxxoooxxx**

**Chapter One, Alea Iacta Est**

Bellatrix Lestrange was having a splendid night out. For one, her Lord had ordered another attack, and while it was just a small muggle settlement, the prospect of hunting down muggles and making them scream always sent pleasant shivers down her spine. For another, she had feared that since they had taken the Ministry of Magic that she would have less time to just cause some chaos with the muggle population and watch them wither in the dust. Some idiot wizards were still opposing them – those insolent mudbloods, as if they had a chance of accomplishing anything! – but they would still have to be dealt with soon, they were annoying her Lord.

And yet, her Lord still found time to send them out to have some fun with those pitiful muggles – her Lord was so generous!

Screams rang in the air, like some echoing symphony, and the smell of burning wood and flesh filled the air like a bitter-tasting perfume. Oh, how she loved it all!

She walked though the chaos of the burning village leisurely, as if taking a walk thought a park – but this was so much more exhilarating than something so dull! She threw curses whenever an opportune target presented itself, sometimes killing, and sometimes torturing before doing so – though she needn't put much effort, the smoke was already torture enough for these muggles, and if they were not suffocating, some had caught fire and were burnt to death. Stupid muggles, hadn't they ever heard of a cleansing-air charm? She sneered, no, these foul creatures were not deserving of a power such as magic.

Her sharp, predatory, eyes caught sight of another potential kill. Two muggles, youths, by the looks of them, were standing in the middle of the burning street, arguing with each other! How stupid could you get?!

A smirk crossed her face – oh, this could be so fun! She snuck up to them slowly, using over-turned cars and trees for cover – they didn't even see her coming when she fire off a curse just a second after finishing her gloating – and gloat she should, these two were so easily downed it was funny!

And then one of them did something even funnier – he jumped in the way of her killing curse to save his buddy! Hilarious! As if that would save any of them!

The raven-haired boy fell to the ground without further protest and she turned to finish off the job. The other boy looked stunned, but there was less horror in his expression than Bella would have liked – she just killed his friend/relative or whatever and he couldn't even ball his eyes out or beg for his life? How pitiful. Still, there was something slightly... _off_ about this one. She shook the feeling off, what was there to be afraid of, a _muggle_? The mere though was laughable!

Bellatrix continued to approach the boy, and he seemed frozen for a moment, staring at the corpse sprawled on the floor. Huh, he wasn't even trying to make a run for it – that was no fun. As she walked over, wanting to scare him, spur him into action before ending his futile struggles with two beautiful words, she noticed he was still staring at his fallen comrade, all but ignoring her! This insulted her greatly, and she made sure to trample on the body, stomping on the corpse's shoulder in the process.

Just as a curse was ready to jump off the tip of her tongue, there was a shuddering gasp. Her eyes widened as she felt the flesh under her foot _move! _Bella watched in shock as the corpse's eyes _opened_, her dumbfounded brain unable to process what she was seeing _because this muggle had died at her hand not a_ _mi__nute ago and corpse's weren't supposed to be _moving! But then something hit her in the stomach, and she stumbled, falling to the ground. For a moment, she lay there, stunned out of her mind, before she realized that _the muggles were running away!_

She jumped to her feet, her legs already running at full-speed as her mind raced. Another Boy-Who-Lived? But no, that couldn't be possible! There was no blood sacrifice! No one had done what that wrench Lily Potter had done! So why was the muggle still alive? What magic was this? She had to know, had inform her Lord of this new development! Could she possibly aid her Lord in his quest with this knowledge? The thought made Bella's heart race with excitement. Bella knew this was a price her Lord would award her handsomely for. She would not disappoint him!

**xxxoooxxx**

He didn't know what was happening – there was fire all around him, surrounding him and drawing ever closer, filling his lungs with smoke and making him choke. He needed to find a way out of this nightmare. He needed to get Lelouche somewhere safe.

Suzaku was still confused as to what had caused all this. There had been people in cloaks setting fire to the village houses and killing the inhabitants of those homes – the thought made Suzaku angry, but he suppressed it. He couldn't lose his head now – and his mind just kept screaming, in a voice that was eerily similar to Lelouche's: _Danger! Idiot, get out of there! _

Lelouche, himself, was still out of it – whatever they hit him with, it must have been pretty lethal for Lelouche to be unconscious for so long, usually it only took a couple of seconds, minutes, if the cause of death was something like bullets/swords through the chest/stomach/any-other-places-that-would-almost-instantly-end-a-normal-person's-life or severe burns. Suzaku couldn't tell how long it had been since Lelouche was shot – three minutes? Five? Seven? Maybe ten? – but he wasn't going to take chances anymore. The place was still crawling with those strangely dressed, stick-waving bastard maniacs that could potentially be the end of them both.

Suzaku's heartbeat was frantic, as if it was trying to break out of his rib-cage. His lungs were burning, every breath he took more painful than the last – but the ever-present burden on his back made him press on. He had to do this, had to survive, for Lelouche – because Lelouche could survive this, could survive _anything_ (well, almost anything, but Suzaku didn't like to dwell on the "what if"s, decapitation was not a pretty way to go) – but what if he, Suzaku, died here? He had seen his best friend in his deepest pit of despair, where he had drunk himself stupid and killed himself just to check if maybe some deity had had mercy on him and would let him stay dead – but Suzaku had always been there – there to talk to his friend, to hide any sharp objects, or guns or anything Lelouche could use against himself. Suzaku had been there, when Lelouche was dangling off the edge of insanity when Nunally had finally passed away, some one hundred years ago, and when the Brittanian Empire was torn apart by the greedy descendants of the Royal Family not long after that. But what would happen if Suzaku was no longer there, what would Lelouche do with himself? Would he become like C.C., wishing only to die through any means necessary? Would this be the last push over the edge?

Suzaku knew he was Lelouche's rock, the last thing his friend had to hold onto that wouldn't crumble with age and fade away. That was why he had to survive! He could already feel the Geass Lelouche had placed on him activating. He kept running, faster than before, and he felt like part of him was being locked away somewhere.

Over the years, he'd learned how to suppress his Geass, if just the slightest bit. He now had awareness of his own actions while under the Geass' influence, and could remember bits and pieces of what happened while under Lelouche's spell. He still couldn't do anything but comply though, his limbs were that of a puppet as he was tugged this way and that to fulfill his Master's wishes – not that he blamed Lelouche or anything, they had forgiven each other their past mistakes, bloodied paths and everything else that had once divided them.

The power the Geass had over him continued to grow as Suzaku ran. There was a part of him that insisted that he should drop the dead weight and save himself – _He had to survive! _– but the other part of him, the part that was still under Suzaku's own volition, ignored the power of the Geass as best he could. It hadn't taken over completely _yet,_ so he still had some control over himself.

He was almost to the edge of the village, the street he had been running on turning into a road that led out through the forest. The forest, mercifully, hadn't caught fire yet. If he could make it to the trees, away from the chaos and devastation, he and Lelouche would be fine – they could continue to live as they had, and Suzaku needn't worry about Lelouche doing something foolish in his depression and grief, because he would be there to stop it.

His plans however, were ruined, as someone cut off his escape route. Suddenly, a flash of bright orange light whizzed over the ex-soldier's head, hitting one of the trees at the side of the street. It burst into flames and fell across the street, directly cutting off Suzaku's bee-line for safety.

Laughter, malicious and disturbing, filled the air. Suzaku turned to face a man in a skull-mask, wearing a dark cloak that was almost exactly the same as the crazy woman had worn. A shiver ran down his spine. No, not now, he had been so close...

The smoke was not as thick here, and Suzaku was able to breathe a little easier here, though his lungs still stung with every rise of his chest. Lelouche still hung limply off Suzaku's shoulder, further worrying Suzaku for his friends condition.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the cloaked person – a man, his voice held a mocking, superior tone, and Suzaku knew instantly that this was a man used to having power over others – said arrogantly. "Did you think we'd let you get away that easily?"

Suzaku gritted his teeth – he had been _so close_, if this man hadn't stopped him, Lelouche and he would be safe once more and maybe he'd manage to get some help for the village people, but this monster wasn't going to let him go without a fight. The Geass was back, stronger than before, as if sensing the danger radiating from the man.

Lucius smirks behind his mask. This muggle was so stubborn, so stupid, clinging to a dead man when he could at least try to save himself. Heh, this would be almost too easy, but the desperate look on the muggle's face was entertaining enough for Lucius to cope. He was a bit bewildered by Bella's request to follow these two strays, but he guessed she simply didn't want any of their prey to slip through their fingers.

The Head of the Malfoy family raised his wand, aiming it at the boy's chest, before muttering the killing curse. "Avada kedavra!" flowed from his lips with practiced ease. The muggle-boy was frozen for a second – a second that would surely be his end – but then he erupted with movement. Suzaku jumped out of the way of the spell with surprising speed and agility – which annoyed Lucius greatly, because no muggle was allowed to survive his on-slough – and then dashed to the sidewalk, probably towards another escape route, but this muggle-boy had already insulted Lucius' pride, and the Death Eater wanted to avenge his wounded ego.

Suzaku, on the other hand, couldn't believe his luck. The Geass had almost completely taken over his mind back there, and he was a hairbreadth away from dropping Lelouche and – there was a groan. Suzaku almost stumbled in relief, but kept up his pace – there was psychopath in a skull-mask chasing him, after all.

"Lelouche!" he called his friend's name urgently, shaking his shoulders ever so slightly in an attempt to wake Lelouche up faster. "Lelouche!" there was another groan, but this time violet eyes slipped open groggily. "S-Su-zaku?" the voice was weak, and Lelouche sounded confused – he was probably disoriented, Suzaku deduced. Although, he had no more time to ponder on the other boy's condition, because the footsteps following them began to grown louder – and it didn't sound like it was just one person! Suzaku cursed silently – why were these weirdos taking such an interest in him and Lelouche? Did they _know_ who they were? The prospect was terrifying but highly unlikely. Then, was this just so there wouldn't be any witnesses? Suzaku still couldn't fathom why anyone would attack this village specifically, it was small and insignificant, which was exactly why Lelouche had picked it as the location of their new home (since they had to relocate every decade or two). Did that mean that these people had a grudge against the inhabitants of this town, was there some kind of blood-feud between them and another village or did someone simply want revenge?

Suzaku shook himself, and focused back on running. He was not the genius of their little duo, and besides, Lelouche would figure it more quickly than Suzaku ever could – though Lelouche was currently out of commission, so the role of Sherlock Holmes fell on Suzaku now (he was not as dimwitted as a certain raven-head liked to think! But he had to admit he preferred being Watson...).

Footsteps continued to drum behind Suzaku, but now it wasn't just from behind – but from the side as well. Before Suzaku could think of a plan of action, he was already surrounded. The cloaked occult – because Suzaku _really _couldn't think of anything else they could be – had those strange sticks of theirs raised and ready to blast that strange energy at him; it reminded him dulling of the laser-blasters Lloyd had engineered, it did resemble it slightly – was it some sort of advanced technology?

His Geass was screaming in his mind now – _Live! Live!_ _Live!Live!Live!LIVE!LIVE!__**LIVE!** _– and Suzaku found his legs moving a moment later without his permission – though, really, he could use the boost of both adrenaline and speed. They were in a narrow alley between two suburban houses, so Suzaku used that to his advantage by using his momentum to jump to one wall, and using the force of the impact to bounce off and to the other building's wall, repeating the process so he could just jump over the heads of his attackers.

No such luck, Karma really did seem to hate him.

Just as he was making the final jump, feet ready to start running the moment they hit the concrete, a red blast hit him in his right leg. Suzaku's eyes widened with the abrupt sensation of ice devouring his leg. He landed on the ground, but the leg that had been hit didn't seem to be functioning and, overbalanced, he toppled over.

Suzaku struggled uselessly in an attempt to get back up, but it was proving futile. He looked down at his right leg desperately, only to find that it looked completely normal, but he was still unable to move it – it felt almost like it wasn't a part of his body, and it reminded him dully of when the Geass took over him. Speaking of Geass, even it didn't seem to know what action to take to save Suzaku's ass – which only made more panic rise up in the Asian's gut. Lelouche seemed to have passed out again, but whether it was from his healing or something else, Suzaku couldn't tell.

Before Suzaku could do anything else, six burly men surrounded him and Lelouche in a small, tight circle. Suzaku grit his teeth as a man raised his stick-thing, a jet of light came out, which Suzaku was unable to dodge due to both due to his leg and the restricted space he was in – he'd be right at their feet if he rolled over! The light hit him, and then darkness quickly crept into his vision. Suzaku gripped Lelouche's shoulder feebly, his panic skyrocketing, but his Geass seemed to think there was no reason to intervene – no one was trying to kill him, yet, after all – and so the darkness of oblivion swallowed him.

The men around the duo, now that the threat had been neutralized, came to collect their praises. A short distance away, Bellatrix smirked in satisfaction. "Thank you, Lucius. I'll take it from here." she said to the man beside her. "You are not going to kill them?" The cloaked man – Lucius – who's face was still hidden behind his mask – questioned incredulously. Did she want to torture them then? The trouble they caused certainly did warrant punishment.

Bella's smirk grew, turning into a gleeful grin "Oh, I don't believe our Lord will be too pleased with us killing off such an interesting discovery!" Lucius raised an eyebrow behind his mask. What could she possibly mean by "interesting discovery"? There was nothing special about these two, except maybe that they were hard to kill, but that was beside the point. Malfoy's frown deepened "And what is this "interesting discovery", per say?" he asked cautiously.

Bella giggled – _giggled_, which either meant something wonderful had happened or they were all going to meet their doom very soon. Lucius shivered slightly, but Bella was completely oblivious to his reaction "Oh, it's such a delightful thing!" she babbled, like an excited school-girl "But I want to surprise our Lord, he'll be so delighted!"

Malfoy's wariness only grew. "You do realize, Bella, that if you are wrong, our Master will punish us all for our incompetence." Lucius said grimly, and felt his body tremble slightly at the prospect of being punished _again_, and it was well known that the Dark Lord was not merciful even on the most loyal of his subjects. He would not hesitate to "discipline" them. Another shiver crawled up Lucius' spine – he did _not_ want to go through that again.

This didn't seem to dampen Bellatrix's mood in the slightest "Oh, Lucius, lighten up!" she said with demented cheer, before sobering slightly at his deathly serious expression. Bella looked just about ready to pout. "If I'm wrong than our Lord will punish me," she said, shivering, she would _never_ intentionally fail her Lord – she would rather die than disgrace him with her failure. "but if I'm right, he'll reward me tremendously!" That was tempting, _very _tempting for someone like Lucius. He had fallen from their Lord's favor _–_ and not once, mind you _–_ and was treated as "expendable", which was a very, _extremely _bad thing for the whole Malfoy family. That meant Draco was expendable too! And if he got captured again by any remaining resistance force, he could expect the same warm welcome with which the Dark Lord would greet a traitor. Either way, he had hit a dead-end – if he didn't find a way to get back into his Lord's good graces he was doomed.

Lucius sighed, but could not find any fault in Bella's plan – it was a gamble, yes, but those who did not take risks did not earn anything. And Bellatrix was a grown woman, and the leader of tonight's mission, so whether he liked it or not he had to follow her orders.

A few minutes later the familiar pull of apparition filled Lucius' senses, and the Death Eaters, and their hostages, found their selves in just outside Malfoy Manor. They soon step across the vast property, across the well-trimmed laws and between well-kept flower-beds, and into the Entrance Hall of the grand Manor. They paused in front of the doors of the Great Hall, nowadays serving as a dining room, and Malfoy hesitated.

Bella pushed the door open.

The room was revealed in all its' shadowed glory, few candles were lit, and it was chilly inside it, colder than it was outside even. The Dark Lord sat leisurely at the head of the long, mahogany table, an air of superiority and quiet menace surrounding him. Severus was there also, standing to the left in front of Voldemort's throne.

He turned as the Death Eaters entered, dragging with them two dirty forms – Snape instantly recognized their clothing as muggle-wear, and his heart sunk, but his mask was as indifferent as ever. He could not help these people, if the Death Eaters had caught them, their fates were sealed. Four Death Eaters, two for each boy, held them by the forearms.

Voldemort raised a quizzical eyebrow, but there was also irritation evident in his eyes – he was not fond of muggles in his house, if he had not _specifically _told his followers to get some entertainment. The thought made Snape slightly sick – they were already torturing a young girl – a _teenager _– and an elderly man who might as well have been made out of paper!

Snape felt guilty for these boys, who looked no more than seniors at Hogwarts. It was such a sad thing; they would end their existence in pain and misery – tortured to death, most likely. He felt his heart mellow ever so slightly in grief – grief for a life wasted and destroyed, of lost chances and years that were yet to be lived – but he held on to his mask steadfastly, because these boys were not the first, and they certainly weren't the last, and he had to be strong, to endure, so he let another life be destroyed for the sake of the "Greater Good" Dumbeldor had preached about so much.

Bellatrix stepped forward "My Lord, I believe I have discovered something of immense value to you!" her tone was serious, but Severus could tell she was excited. Dread began to settle in his gut, whatever was about to happen, didn't bode well for the future.

A split-second later Bellatrix brandished her wand and a green jet of light went flying towards the raven-haired boy. Snape felt a face muscle twitch imperceptibly as the boy fell face-first onto the polished-wood floor. No one noticed his almost non-existent reaction though, too shocked by Bellatrix's sudden request: "Check the body." she said simply, but there was a definite undercurrent of excitement present. Severus was slightly dumbfounded. What could Bella possibly be up to? For his brilliant mind could come up with nothing – and that only served to increase the dread crawling around in his gut, like a monster waiting to devour him from the inside.

No one moved, stunned and disbelieving. The Dark Lord remained stoic, but it was obvious that he, too, was curious, and rather impatient. A few Death Eaters fidgeted slightly under his intense gaze, demanding information with unnatural crimson eyes.

"Check. The. **Body**." Mrs. Lestrange ordered with a sneer, her tone promising pain for those who dare challenge her. Instantly, a Death Eater – still masked, and Severus did not bother to identify him, he had more pressing matters to attend to – rushed forward and knelt besides the corpse of the boy. For the life of him, Snape could not figure out what was happening. Why was Bellatrix ordering a corpse to be checked right after killing the owner of the body? Why had she dragged this teenager all the way to the Manor if she was intending to kill him? Why leave him alive, only to kill him _here_? What was Lestrange thinking?

But then there was a surprised gasp, a quickly withdrawn hand and a strangled shout of "He- he's breathing!" and the world came to an abrupt stop. A stunned silence hung over them, and for a second Snape's thoughts were blank with shock. They all stood there, like statues – the sentence not registering in their minds. Confused, stunned, and holding their breath, as if one wrong move could somehow lead to catastrophe – they waited for the Dark Lord's reaction. And the only though in Snape's brilliant, quick, clever, pensive mind was: _This _**can't **_be happening!_ The dam broke and like an unstoppable tidal wave emotions battered away his shocked silence. _The boy is alive – _the thought reverberated inside Severus' skull – _the boy is alive – _over and over again because Severus still couldn't fully comprehend the implications of such a statement.

Then, Voldemort stood up, raising his want. There was a pause, before "Crucio!" he incanted. The body on the floor, with was in fact not a body but a _living person _still, screamed in pure agony. It was like a spell had been broken, both over him and the other Death Eaters – except Bella, who had a gleeful grin on her face.

Severus felt his insides grow cold. _No, please, this cannot be happening!_

The scream was so real, so _alive_, that it chilled Severus to the bone. That scream should not have existed, it should not have been torn from a body who's spirit had left it, it shouldn't have left a _corpse!_ But it was so undeniably _real, _echoing in it every other scream Severus had heard in all his time spent with the Dark Lord and his minions, bringing back the faces of the dead, unwanted memories, the things that made him hate himself every day of his existence – brought back _Lily's dead face _as he cradled her in his arms and cried and wished she could come back to him and that he _should have protected her_. That scream, that horrible, _wretched _sound, seemed to last an eternity – but the Dark Lord seemed to have grown bored with it and ceased his spell – and it stopped.

The next thing that registered was the Dark Lord's voice saying "I must conssider thisss... new turn of events..." the disfigured man paused thoughtfully – if one could call him that, Severus himself preferred _monster,_ but of course he never voiced his personal opinions (he was a spy, he had a masquerade to keep up) "And the other one has similar abilities, I presume?" The other one, right, Snape had all but forgotten about the other boy the Death Eaters had brought in.

Bellatrix stiffened, hesitating if only for a moment "I do not know, my Lord." she said honestly, and seemed very ashamed that she could not answer the question properly – she had always been the most loyal of them all. Voldemort seemed slightly annoyed by this – though not as nearly as he would have been under normal circumstances, and this could _hardly _be called normal. He made his way around the table to his Death Eaters then, and Snape too, crept closer slowly, cautiously.

Lord Voldemort cupped the raven-haired boy by the cheek, bringing his young face to the dim light of the candles. Snape silently studied his features – his eyes were closed tightly, and he was nothing special really, prettier than the norm, some might have considered him handsome, but nothing that would reveal something so... _disturbing _and _unnatural _and damn right _impossible _– were the first word that came to mind, though _miracle _was somewhere squeezed in there too, though _it_ ending up in the hands of a Dark Lord hell-bent on attaining immortality could hardly be called a _miracle_. Snape prayed that this was all just a bad dream, that he'd wake up back in the Headmaster's Quarters and gulp down five liters of dreamless-sleep-potion _at least _and hope he would not remember this_ dream _in the morning. Unfortunately, reality rarely had mercy for anyone.

Pale fingers stroked the raven's cheek, almost like a caress, before sharp nails buried themselves into the soft flesh of the boy's face. Violet eyes – bright and unnatural – snapped open with another howl of pain. The Dark Lord removed his fingers and Severus watched in morbid wonder as the cuts became non-existent and the boy's complexion became perfect once more – the only evidence of the small laceration a few splotches of blood. Unbelievable!

The Dark Lord just stood there for a moment, gazing into a pair of violet eyes that were quickly becoming both fierce and glaring. The Dark Lord stood up slowly, Nagini hissed as she hung over the armrest of the chair Voldemort had been sitting on not long ago, but he paid her no mind. His red eyes were too preoccupied with taking in the being before him.

"I am ssorry to have inconvenienced you, Immortal." Voldemort said finally, his voice diplomatic and suave, and Severus' could see the boy's face scrunch up ever so slightly. Immortal, it was hard to associate the ideal – because Snape had always known _nothing_ could last forever, that one day everything would come to pass, because that was the way the world worked, was it not? – with a mere human, let alone a pitiful sight as this teen. _No, _through Snape, _he must be older than that... _He looked hard at the young man on the floor, held tightly by the arms by two burly Death Eaters, and decided to focus on the eyes – because the eyes always revealed something that nothing else could. The Immortal Boy's eyes were unnatural, an unsettling shade of bright violet, narrowed and glaring and guarded – and yet looking so tired, the undeniable wight of times long past settling in their depth. Those were old eyes, eyes of a man who'd seen too much, gone to through many horrors and had many burdens pressed upon his chest – those eyes were not fit for such a youthful face. But could this... _being _really be called youthful? _I wonder how old he is... _Severus' found himself wondering, and it was shocking to even himself that he had accepted this new information so quickly. _But what other explanation do you have? _a snarky voice replied.

Voldemort's high-pitched voice broke through Snape's train of thought: "I am quite curiousss, how did you gain your immortality, or was it something you were born with? I doubt it, ssso what did you have to do to achieve it?" silence met his inquires. Two purple orbs watched the Dark Lord as Voldemort paced, his posture was tense, and there was a slight frown tugging at his facial muscles, but overall the boy was succeeding in being almost completely passive. Voldemort scowled slightly, carrying on with his theories, which the boy did not confirm or deny. His eyes roamed around the room every so often, lingering on his still unconscious companion every time, but he said nothing.

The Dark Lord was not done with his questions, however "I musst assk, does your companion ssshare the sssame abilitiesss as you?"

There was a pause. The boy was weighting his options, Snape realized, thinking of what answer would be best. If he stayed silent, the Dark Lord could take the answer as either affirmative or negative, and would most likely test out the truthfulness of either. By the slight twitch in the boy's stony expression, the tightening of his fist even as his arms were held tightly away from him, Snape deduced that the boy would not risk his companions life or safety. They were close then. It was a dead-end situation either way, there was no way that the Dark Lord would let him _or_ his companion go. He would not accept silence for his interrogation either.

"What would you do with my answer?" the Immortal Boy asked finally. His voice was guarded, and his tone slightly harsh, but the voice was refined, an echo of authority in it. The question genuinely surprised Severus – for one, it was as diplomatic as possible, revealing nothing; for another, it was strategically sound and completely logical – but from the minute hardening of the boy's facial features gave away his trepidation. His eyes wandered to the other boy, seizing him up. His skin-color, which was hidden underneath a layer of soot, was slightly different than the boy's – Asian? Perhaps. The lines of his face were harder than that of his raven-haired companion, his face was framed by curly brown hair, which was now matter in sweat and a bit of ash. In one word, he was the complete opposite of the other when it came to physical appearance.

The Dark Lord smirked slightly. "I wissh to become immortal myssself." Voldemort admitted "For a very long time, it hass been my dream to live forever." he explained, drawing himself to his full height with something akin to a boast. "I believe you could aid my in my quesst."

"And, how far have you gone in this quest of yours?" the Immortal trailed off, clearly searching for a name to dub his new captor with.

The Dark Lord complied, inclining his head slightly "I am Lord Voldemort." he introduced himself confidently, as if expecting the Immortal to already know of him.

Thin, black eyebrows rose in mild shock "Lord?" he questioned, before smirking. An unreadable emotion in his eyes, he said "Well, I have not met any Lords for a while now."

Then the Dark Lord Voldemort asked a question that had been nagging at him since his unexpected guests had arrived in the escort of his servants "What were you doing in a muggle settlement?" there was a slight undercurrent of accusation, quiet and barely there, amid the curiosity. Voldemort kept his voice low, an unsettling whisper spoken in a pleasant tone. The Immortal was unfazed.

"Muggle?" the boy – Immortal, and Severus still had a hard time wrapping his head about that – questioned after a moment's pause. That one, single word would prove to be his downfall. The Dark Lord seemed to had picked up on that fact as well. His crimson eyes sharpened, accusing and burning with anger "You do not know what a muggle is?" he demanded sharply.

A pause, "I am afraid I do not. Do you care to explain?" the tone was measured, passive and slightly curious – still diplomatic as before, though it's owner seemed to realize he was sinking deeper into dangerous waters. Voldemort's wrath simmered slightly, but a smile, twisted and slightly sadistic crossed his face. "The _muggles,_" he spat the word, as it were acrid on his tongue "are non-magical filth, things that are no more than dirt on the polished boots of us wizards." he said those words with a passion, a passion that stirred and drove his servants to do his bidding, to follow him and believe in his ideal blindly. Voldemort's tone was dangerously low, still in that high, shrill voice that was like nails on a chalkboard, when he sneered out his next words "The fact that you do not know about them leads me to believe you are one as well." abruptly, the Dark Lord changed the topic, keeping his voice ever-pleasant "Now, answer my first question, is the other boy ageless as well?" Silence and gritted teeth, and Voldemort knew the answer even if the Immortal had not uttered it out-loud.

He nodded to Bellatrix, who stepped forward without hesitation, drawing a small dagger from her cloak.

Violet eyes widened in alarm "NO!" the shriek ripped itself out of Lelouche's throat before he could stop it, his bluff wavering as his heart raced with panic. _No, please, not Suzaku!_ he thought desperately. He couldn not loose Suzaku, no matter what he couldn't let Suzaku die. He couldn't live without Suzaku at his side, there was no point in continuing his existence if he lost his best and only friend, his brother in everything but blood. Lelouche vi Britannia struggled uselessly in the arms of his captors, but to no avail. He could not touch them – the fabric of his shirt and their restraining hands preventing him from using one of C.C.'s abilities – to trap those she touched with her bare skin in a perpetual nightmare of their own creation. He was unable to do anything but trash in his captor's grips uselessly as Bellatrix Lestrange approached the unconscious – _helpless – _Suzaku – _and dammit just wake up, you idiot!_

Bella, however, only drew the blade across Suzaku's cheek – in clear view of both her Lord and his other servants – much like Voldemort, himself, had sliced Lelouche's. The boy did not stir. Suzaku's wound did not heal as Lelouche's did, and blood gushed out of it, trickling down the soot covered face and dirtying it further. The Dark Lord frowned thoughtfully, "I musst conssider thisss," he said at last. Almost as an afterthought, he added "Take thisss one to the dungeonsss." There was a moment of bewildered hesitation before the guards holding Suzaku complied and dragged Suzaku out of the hall. Lelouche felt a chocking lump settle in his throat – now that he could no longer see Suzaku, questions instantly swarmed his worried mind, questions like: _Is he going to be alright? What do they plan to do to us? Where are they taking him?! Their separating us!_

Voldemort was speaking again, though this time he was addressing his Death Eaters. "I wissh for sssome privacy while I continue my... invesstigation. I would prefer if you all left. Go back to your possstss, you as well, Severus, and I will call on you all when it is time to discuss thesse mattersss. Ssspeak of thisss to no one." The Death Eaters complied, too afraid to defy their Lord even with their nagging curiosity. Snape was the last one out, and for a wild moment, he considered finding an excuse to stay or eavesdrop – but quickly dismissed the idea as half-baked and stupid and one that would most likely get him killed. He could do nothing here. Without further adieu, he closed the door shut behind him.

Once the room was empty of all it's occupants, besides Voldemort, his Immortal prisoner and the two that held him in place, the Dark Lord began to pace around Lelouche – eyeing him as one would some_thing _of extreme value – possessively.

The Dark Lord was seizing up his prize. He – a boy, simple and dirty and with nothing to bring out the sheer power he must wield – was held securely in his minions grasp – in _his_ grasp. _  
_

An _Immoral!_

Voldemort could scarcely come to grips with himself – for kneeling before him was an _ageless_ man, an ancient, one who could not_ die_, a powerful entity disguised as a simple muggle – disgraceful! Why would anyone with such power lower themselves to the guise of a simple, pitiful _muggle?!_

Voldemort peered down at his prize – this fantastical creature, an _immortal_ being! – with nothing but obsessive fascination. A smile spread over his pale lips – perhaps, he had finally found the key to immortal life?

**xxxoooxxx**

**AN: Alea Iacta Est - lat. translation: "The die has been cast" or "The dice has been thrown" as said by Suetonius to Julius Caeser, signifying some sort of gamble has been made and the outcome is now in the hands of fate - or how I interpret it, anyway. ****A lot of foreshadowing in this chapter and dark stuff coming up in the future ones. I won't reveal anything else.**

**Now, about the timeline - it's a bit complicated, and I thought I'd explain it in the next chapter. But, basically, Code Geass happened as it happened, only in the 19th century. Okay, giants robots in the 19th century sound incredibly weird, but I'm messing up history here so we might as well go with it. Anyway, after the Demon Emperor was killed by Zero, Empress Nunally reigned for 56 years until her death. In the decade following her death, the Britannian Empire is torn apart by too many successors who all wish to rule the empire, consequentially tearing it to bits in their war with each other and many ensuring rebellion against the Royal Family. Another important fact is that Nunally banned Nightmares and ordered all technology used for war destroyed, along with their blueprints - hence, there was no further advance in science (if there were, I'd probably have to categorize this as sci-fi!) Well, I hope that answer satisfies you for now, since were going to dwell on history in some flashbacks and Binn's lessons(if you don't fall asleep, that is). Oh, and the year is 1998, as it is in the Seventh Harry Potter book, Deathly Hallows.**

**PS. I made a little miscalculation, Lelouche isn't 300 years old, he's some 176, but he'll be referred to as 200-years-old. Care to leave me a review? **


	3. Postcard from Hell

Postcard from Hell

Spane wanted to get drunk. So drunk, in fact, that he wanted to forget himself, the world, and any coherent statement his brain might have once produced. The universe was against him, clearly, or some higher-being found it very amusing to make his life more difficult than it already was.

Three days ago he had had a plan to go by, carefully constructed over years of preparation and cautious plotting.

Now he had nothing.

Every scenario, every possibility and counter-plan. Everything. All of it. Gone.

He'd have to start from scratch. Severus had to take matters into his own hands.

Some of his shock lingered even now. Another Boy-Who-Lived? Wasn't _one_ enough? One was more than enough, if Severus was concerned. But, how was it even possible? Questions swirled in his head, possibilities that all seemed impossible and theories that ended up too complicated for even the brilliant Potions Master to understand what he had originally wanted to say. His thoughts were a big mass of confusing the size of Hogwart's Giant Squid.

He drowned the rest of the Calming Draught he'd brewed for himself a while ago. It was one of the potions he kept a large stock of – like the anti-cruciatus potion and the like. Just in case. He _did_ end up using them more frequently then he would have preferred. Unfortunately, he'd run out of anything that could cure his horrendous headache. He had no time to dilly-dally! There were too many thing he had to do and time was short.

Dumbledor's plans needed to be changed, for no matter how genial the old man had been he certainly couldn't have foreseen this. He had to gather the Order of the Phoenix. Had to set up a resistance – he couldn't very well rely on Harry Bloody Potter to save the day! And from an _immortal_ Voldemort, no less!

He had to reunite the Order quickly and he knew the perfect way to do it too, even if it was extremely underhanded and could very well cause even more distrust – if that was even possible, he was a known Death Eater and the Order thought him traitor.

And that was the most frustrating thing of all! No one would believe him! The plan he and Dumbledor had concocted had been nothing short of perfection and very little could have ruined it, really. But then everything had gone so drastically, horribly wrong. Words couldn't describe how hopelessly angry that made him. He wanted to shout and scream at the heavens for being so cruel. But he deserved this. He knew he did.

He deserved to suffer, but that didn't mean any more innocents had to share his torment.

For the first time in a long time Severus wasn't sure what to do. It was frustrating and made him feel even more helpless. It made him curse the world and the fates and even Dumbledor for leaving him alone and dying.

He was truly alone, wasn't he? Would the Order even listen to his warnings? Would they shoot him on sight and would all the things he desperately needed to tell them die with him? Was the world truly doomed? No, he could let Riddle win. He wouldn't. He vowed with everything he was that he wouldn't.

Severus' headache only intensified the more he thought, and he groaned. The universe truly must hate him.

Snape knew this was a turning point in the war, a pin on the scales of victory, and he feared the odds are no longer in the favor of the Light.

* * *

The dark cell was a mix of warping shadows and blurred, leering faces – sometimes laughing, sometimes mocking, but always bringing him pain. The sticky smell of blood lingered in the air almost constantly, and his screams joined it from time to time. Suzaku would often bite his lip in an effort to stay silent, trying with all his might never to utter a sound until his lips became bloody. He wouldn't give his tortures the satisfaction – but he couldn't help the periodical whimpers and gasps that managed to escaped him.

Suzaku didn't know how long he'd been there, in the dungeons of some maniac's manor.

He'd lost track of time long ago, but he estimated that at least a couple of days had passed. There was no precise way to tell time, so Suzaku estimated the hours and days by the comings and goings of his "visitors", dreaded as they were.

However, he was not their only prisoner. Two others occupied this shadowed Hell and Suzaku was thankful that at least they didn't suffer as much as he did. One was a young girl, in her mid-teens most likely, and was certainly too young to be in this place. The other was an elderly man with an odd name – Ollivander, if he remembered correctly – that looked like he was made of glass and that a single harsh word could send him crashing to the ground in a hundred jagged pieces. One was much too young to endure this, the other too old. Suzaku was somewhere in the middle – though, one could quite honestly say that he was the eldest of the trio – but Suzaku was young in body but experienced in mind and would rather that he suffer instead of someone else.

Lelouche would have no doubt called him a masochist.

They were experienced when it came to torture – these, "Death Eaters", as they called themselves – Suzaku had realized long ago. He didn't like to dwell on how many had suffered at their hands, tortured and killed in this very dungeon, this very cell and the world outside it. Suzaku was not one prone to hate – Lelouche/Zero didn't count! Besides, it was in the past now. – but these people made him wish that there was still a Lancelot with which he could blow them up with. He wanted them to pay. He wanted them to feel the pain and–

– _oh, the pain!_

The pain whipped away all reason in a flash of crimson light, and as he withered on the floor, gasping and helpless, all Suzaku knew was the pain. It was like everything else was pushed out of his thoughts and he could no longer remember who was his torturer today or why was he even there and why was he suffering so much and feeling so much _pain?_

When the sessions ended and his senses came back to him however, Suzaku was filled with a feeling of guilt and shame. When had he become so _weak_?

He was once a Knight of the Round Table, once the Knight of Princess Euphimia li Britannia, the Knight of Zero, Zero himself – Lelouche's Knight! He hadn't gotten all of those titles just by sitting back and looking pretty – okay, maybe with Euphy, but that was beside the point. Where had all his strength gone? Where was his stubbornness and iron will? Where was the old Kururugi Suzaku? Where was the famed Zero? But most importantly:

Where was Lelouche?

Some knight was he, when he couldn't even protect his Emperor (_just like I couldn't protect Euphy)_. He was truly pathetic. He didn't deserve the life Lelouche had given him. He didn't deserve Lelouche's friendship. Who knew what they were doing to him now, while he lay bleeding and useless in a filthy cell?

The silence was maddening sometimes, especially when Ollivander and the girl, Luna, were asleep or wandering in some other area of the cellar adjoined to the dungeons. The Death Eaters must have thoughts that they were incapable of escaping on their own. Suzaku had to agree with them on that – even though he loathed having to agree with such monsters – but those two couldn't hold their ground against one Death Eater. They certainly wouldn't be able to escape a Manor full of those cloak-wearing bastards.

They weren't strong enough.

_He_ wasn't strong enough.

Oddly enough, whenever he thought of strength Kallen always seemed to pop into his head. Kouzuki Kallen, as she preferred to call herself, or Kallen Stedtfast as history had remembered her. Suzaku couldn't help but think that every historian in the world would have their heads ripped off if Kallen had been able to see the future.

It was ironic. The world remembered a woman who had been loyal to Japan, fought and slaughtered for it and its' freedom as a Britannian. Maybe it was better though, Suzaku mused, because the way people remembered her Kallen was a Britannian who fought the corruption of her own country and showed immense loyalty to it by destroying and reforming it. Yup, some historians would have _definitely _been a head shorter if Kallen had been psychic.

Still, he had enjoyed the redhead's company immensely in the years following the Zero Requiem. When they were still both mere mortals waiting on the edge of forever.

_Kallen's hand came straight up, cupping Zero's mask and ripping it off with such force it made the back of Suzaku's skull ache._

_They stared at each other, horror filled green into calm, stormy blue, before Kallen uttered three simple words "You're not him."_

The incident had happened on a New Year's Eve, little over three and a half months since the fall of the Demon Emperor. A few days earlier, Nunnally had introduced him to the idea of ridding the world of Knightmare frames – no, of erasing them from history completely.

It was actually quite well-thought out. Nunnally was planing on baning Knightmares from the military once they were the only ones who possessed the "murder machines" as she'd called them. Only the stronger rebel movements still had Knightmare Frames at their disposal besides the Military. The Britannians would take care of that first, while slowly decreasing their own number. They wouldn't be used if riots or protests broke out – even if the military was called in to assist the police. If there was a parade in honor of the Peace or Military, only few Knightmares would make the scene – stripped of their weapons, of course.

The public generally held a great dislike for the gigantic killing machines, but the shutting down of research facilities and laboratories that worked on improving and manufacturing Knightmares was still kept away from the public eye. A few months after being closed down, a fire would break out and swallow the building – with everything in it. That was when the lab was in a populated area, so the demolition would not arouse suspicion if everyone thought it was a simple (but tragic) accident.

The more secret labs were demolished by those in the 100th Empress most trusted circles, since only they could be trusted not to salvage anything from the ruins. Blueprints were destroyed. Evidence burned to the ground. Information on the machines strictly kept from the public.

Eventually, as the knowledge of such machines would fade with every new generation. Only those who had seen the Knightmares or those that had seen the consequences using those cursed weapons could bring knew they existed. Even in schools no pictures on the gigantic monstrosities were shown in the lectures or textbooks, the descriptions were vague and often referred to as the ultimate murder weapons. The only information available in such books was the death count the things had caused.

With such bad publicity and so little known about such things, Knightmare Frames would eventually fade from the minds of the new generations – but that would be after decades of work.

Even warships like the Avalon had been destroyed and almost erased as well. There was still the floating operations system, but the weapons, shields and even most of the more advanced designs had been destroyed.

On that New Year's Eve though, the idea was still fresh and new and looking absolutely impossible to accomplish.

Nunnally was safe with the Royal Guard and after the opening ceremony, she had told him (Zero, as that was the only thing that he could have called himself then. Kururugi Suzaku hadn't existed then and wouldn't for a long time. Not until Lelouche revived his true self under the mask he himself had placed on his friend's face) to try and relax. She'd be fine anyway, all of her guards were approved by Zero himself and were completely trustworthy.

Zero had decided to take the advice and went out on the open balcony with a bottle of campaign. He could stand to be in a room full of so many familiar faces – from people he had considered friends, allies, colleagues, enemies and comrades. It was all a bit too much when he added how it only served to remind him of his grief (back then, he had still thought Lelouche was truly dead by his own hands).

Lelouche should have been able to see this. It was because of Lelouche that they could be happy in this new world – a world Lelouche had created by sacrificing himself.

He should have been to see this.

Zero sighed, popping the bottle open and filling his glass with the golden liquid. He wasn't planning on drinking much. He just needed something warm and burning down his throat to distract himself from everything that wasn't right in the world.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" a voice from behind him said lightly but Zero tensed nonetheless, silently cursing himself for letting his guard down. Fortunately, the voice was a familiar one – one he could trust.

"I wasn't really looking, Kouzuki-sama." It still felt strange to call her that but Kallen was now a War Hero, well-respected within the Palace and Military and idolized by the public – not as much as Zero, but still quite famous. She was Nunnaly's official Knight, after all.

Zero may have been Nunnally's Protector, but Kallen was hailed the Knight.

There was a chuckle as Kallen leaned on the stone railing next to him, holding a half-empty glass of her own. "Hello Zero," she greeted, receiving a nod in return. "Not feeling very talkative now, are we?" she said jokingly. Kallen was really the only one who could use that tone of voice with him, it was improper but it still felt nice to be talked to as if he were an actual human being – not that Nunnally treated him as anything else.

But Kallen... Kallen was more informal, somehow easier to speak to even if the topics weren't concerning political happening or the like. Things had been tense in the beginning, what with him murdering Lelouche and knowing she harbored feelings for him. It seemed she had overcome her grief however, for their relationship had gone from confused, doubt-filled stares and cold-shoulders to a more verbally open one.

She was dressed in a Britannian style dress. Red lace with a black shawl over her shoulders. It gave the effect of elegance while not being overbearing and Kallen had even managed to throw in her favorite passionate red into the mix. The sight had brought a small smile to Suzaku's mouth.

Kallen swirled the liquid in her glass so it sloshed from side to side – wine, Zero noted – and stared into it as if it held all the answers to the universe "Hey, can I... ask you something?" her voice was quiet and unreadable, but the unusual request made Zero pause. This was strange. Usually, if Kallen needed to say something she'd have already said it. Kallen wasn't the time to beat around the bush. So, why the hesitation?

He decided to tread carefully. Kallen was a pretty unpredictable person and while he doubted she'd punch/kick/decapitate him he was still wary of the time she had tried (and succeeded, in her and everyone's else's minds) to kill him. Better be safe than sorry. "Depends on what it is." He answered diplomatically.

A faint scowl crossed Kallen's face, the expression didn't really suit her. She seemed old when she wore it, hateful, worn, angry at the world, perhaps even bitter. Then it was gone, replaced by that unreadable look again. "Could you... take me to... Lelouche's grave?" she made too many pauses for Zero to not begin to doubt if this was truly Kallen and not an impostor, but the request chased away any doubts.

Zero hadn't really managed to comprehend what she had said, jarred as he was by her words. He just stood there, dumbfounded and his brain working furiously to understand what had just happened.

Kallen, taking the silence as a negative, cringed slightly. Her eyes softened, a lost and pleading look that was such a contrast to the scowl she had worn just a few moments ago "Please," she said, _begging_ almost, and the fact snapped Zero out of his daze. "Please, I'll never tell anyone! You know I won't!" Kallen had screwed her eyes shut, her voice fluctuating with the desperation she felt. And seeing Kallen – strong, courageous Kallen – looking like a lost child on the verge of tears made the decision for Zero.

About two hours later, they had found themselves in a public graveyard where most of the soldiers – both Brittanian and those who had perished fighting against the Demon Emperor – were buried.

The grave they stood before was indistinguishable. The slab of black marble engraved with a name of someone who's body had never been found. Still no one would guess that this grave belonged to Lelouche vi Britannia. Jeremiah had been quite meticulous when choosing a burying place and Suzaku was thankful. At least no one would come to destroy or sacrilege the grave sight.

At his side, Kallen stood staring down at the grave. The blackness of the stone seemed to merge with the darkness of night, as if to further hide it from their sights.

Kallen uncorked the bottle she'd brought with her from the car, handing one of the glasses to him. Zero took it deftly and Kallen poured them both a drink before raising her glass in the air, a melancholic expression on her face.

"A toast!" she proclaimed, gently scraping the two glasses against one another with a reverberating chime. "To Lelocuhe." She said, her voice quieter as she brought the dark red drink to her lips.

Suzaku gulped down a wave of renewed grief, muttering a soft "To Lelouche," before taking a sip of the wine himself.

One glass had then turned into two, then three, as they continued to rise them in respect of the fallen. "For Lelouche", "For Naoto", "For Genbu", "For Euphimia" and so on until they were both tipsy and then drunk and repeating names they had already shouted to the heavens before.

"For us." Kallen had uttered at the end of it. Zero had raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "For us?" he asked.

Kallen had nodded, smiling drunkenly with unfocused blue eyes "Yeah, for us who were left behind. Who gave everything for someone who left us on our own." Then her hand was unclasping his helmet before Suzaku's reflexes, sluggish from the alcohol as they were, even registered the movement.

The cold night air assaulted his face and he was momentarily stunned. Kallen had looked at him then, seeing the grieving and broken man hiding behind the hero's visage. Face pale from lack of sunlight, green eyes unfocused but somehow still smoldering with sadness.

Kallen had smiled but her expression was somehow both knowing and longing at the same time.

"You're not him," three little words that they both would have done anything to change. They both wanted Lelouche back, both ached from the same hole in their chests. They had loved him, even if their loves had differed from one another.

They'd stumbled back to the car some time later that was absolutely too hazy for Suzaku to recall clearly.

The driver, thankfully, hadn't asked any questions on the way back. He felt so exhausted when they had arrived at the Royal Palace that he had immediately gone to his chambers, threw his accursed mask on the bedside-table and collapsed on the bed.

He hadn't realized that he was crying until his pillow became wet from the tears.

After that, he had avoided Kallen like a plague and Kallen, surprisingly, seemed to have been doing the same thing to him – that is, until Nunally proved that she was indeed Lelouche's sister with a cunning little plan to glue them together.

"_I _was _the captain of Zero's personal guard." she smirked "And it does seem like you need a babysitter."_

Nunnally had sent them both to take care of a raising rebel movement in Central Asia, one of the few that still possessed illegal Knightmare Frames. They'd been there a few months. The rebels were losing, slowly but surely, and when they had been certain they had no force with which to retaliate – the Royal Army had struck. Zero had lead the charge, Kallen stayed behind in camp with the wounded and the reserve corpses.

Zero's forces had been ambushed.

The rebels had apparently planned to appear smaller than they actually were, hiding about six thousand soldier from the Military's sights. They had been surrounded and badly outnumbered. Backup was too far away and wouldn't make it in time.

But they had.

Kallen had stormed in with her custom-made Gurren Mark-III and fought with a fire not many could survive. A lot of rebels had turned tail and ran just at the sight of the infamous Knightmare Frame that day.

The damage the Central Asian Rebel Movement (CARM, for short – he could still remember Kallen snorting at the name and saying that people didn't have any taste anymore. "Black Knights" had been much more catchy, she'd insisted) had taken too much damage to instigate a true rebellion – but both Zero and Kallen had been required to stay there a few weeks longer.

Kallen had saved his ass that day, which was yet another irony, because hadn't she blasted him halfway across the country in a steaming chunk of metal just short of two years ago? But then again, they were both bull-headed, so in their effort to not be alone in their misery – to have someone share in their grief for Lelouche – they might have overlooked the fact that they were once mortal enemies.

Suzaku had once joked that it was a mask fetish, Kallen had beaten the shit out of him.

Kallen, fierce, independent, loyal, strong. Why couldn't he be at least half the person she had been?

Suzaku thought of his former teacher, Todoh, and wondered what he would have done if he had ever found himself in a situation similar to this – arguably, he had, just without the torture part. He had been awaiting execution but he hadn't tried to escape, accepting and regal in the face of his imminent death. Suzaku liked to think he would have had the grace of his _sensei_ when the Britannians had been carting him off for execution, when Lelouche had made his first public appearance as Zero – but today, almost two centuries later, it wasn't his life on the line. It was Lelouche's. It was Lelouche these Death Eaters were trying to recruit, or more likely to control, or even attempt to steal away his power or make a contract with him.

Lelouche wouldn't make a contract with them though, of that Suzaku was sure. Lelouche had sworn to himself, and repeated to Suzaku at least hundreds times in the last few decades alone, that he would _not _under any circumstances curse any individual with the Geass.

After the destruction of the Geass Order and since C.C. passed her to code to him, Lelouche was the only Coder left in existence – and he had no plans of passing that legacy to anyone, even if it prevented him from finally dying.

It was ironic really, that they both wanted to die, but, then again, Suzaku figured that was reason they were still alive.

It was their punishment for ruining so many lives.

* * *

Lelouche was not the type to fret often. If ever. Which was highly unlikely because he was the type of person who liked to be in control. Meaning that he always knew what he was getting himself into, what conditions would surround him in whatever situation he was likely to find himself in and how to escape or twist them to his own favor.

He didn't have any of those things now.

Lelouche didn't know where he was. He only had vague information about his captors and their goals. He didn't know what they had at their disposal. Didn't know how many of them there were. He didn't know.

_He didn't know!_

Blasted wizards!

Lelouche vi Britannia without a plan? Preposterous! But it was true. It was real. It was happening and Lelouche was helpless.

He wondered if C.C. had felt like this in Clovis' lab.

Lelouche was chained to a wall, locked in a dark room with no furniture or windows and while it wasn't like how C.C. had been strapped to a table with scientists ripping her open – well, Lelouche couldn't really say he was happy with his accommodations.

He knew he was being watched, even though there were no cameras or other means he was familiar with when it came to spying. They were most likely watching him through some magically influenced way, but the strange ceiling made him suspicious as well. Actually, every wall was a bit strange, made of some material Lelouche had never seen before. Did it function like a one-way looking glass? He wondered. Maybe. It was the most reasonable explanation he could come up with.

He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what they were doing to him either. There was a lot of flashes of light – spells – and they did scans with their sticks – wands – murmuring strange incantations and making him drink strange liquids – potions, maybe poison even – to see how he would react.

He had died a few times during his stay actually, which he now calculated was about a week, six days to be precise.

His captors visited him thrice a day among the constant scurrying of the magical scientists observing him. They asked questions, always the same in different wording. They always told him their Master wished to speak with him and if he would be as kind as to accept the invitation.

He would be silent. He was almost always silent, except when his dialogue was carefully constructed to extract information from the people holding him here.

The "Death Eaters" – and honestly, did they not realize how redundant that sounded? "Death Eaters"? Does anyone in this century still have good taste? – had told him he was being held in the Ministry of Magic, which was under their Master's control, and that they would extract the answers out of him whether he talked or not.

How could he have missed something _that_ big? The Ministry of MAGIC?! It frustrated him to no end. He had been the Emperor of Britannia, had ruled the entire world! So how could an entire _magical world _escape his notice?!

Lelouche'd taken to ignoring the scientist running their little experiments on him while he brooded. He was brooding by nature and kind of missed Suzaku's reprimands and attempts to cheer him up. That lovable idiot just had to be _that _caring.

But now he wasn't there and that made unease wash over Lelouche like a tidal wave.

One of the things he both hated and was thankful for was all the time he had to thinks, since one couldn't really do anything else while chained to a wall. Lelouche thought of ways to escape, ways to incapacitate the scientists (or whatever they called themselves) long enough to get away. But there was a massive flaw in every of his plans:

Suzaku.

They had Suzaku. Lelouche shivered, remembering with dread the time they had used that advantage over him.

_He'd been rebellious, which in Lelouche's book meant he'd been stupid. Being stupid wasn't a thing Lelouche Lamperouge made a habit of. Period. But today he had been extraordinarily, unbelievably _stupid! _Which was why he was now staring at a picture held bare inches from his face, utterly horrified._

_It wasn't so much the fact that the picture was _moving _– he'd found that that was the way pictures were when influenced by magic – but rather the horrible image it was showing him._

_Suzaku, chained to a wall in a similar fashion to himself, hanging limp in his restraints with the shackles digging into his skin and making small trickles of blood oozing down the bruised skin of his forearms. The rest of him was even worse._

_Lelouche felt his breath quicken, coming in short, heavy pants. He wanted to scream._

_The floor in the picture was stained with blood; wounds covered Suzaku's torso, and while Lelouche could just make out that they weren't life-threatening they certainly must be painful to bear... and if they got infected – no, Lelouche don't go there! Suzaku would be okay! Suzaku would survive! He had to._

_And Suzaku appeared to be unconscious in the picture, and there was a dry red stain on his cheek, almost completely concealed by filthy, matter hair. This only intensified Lelouche's fear – because Lelouche _was _afraid._

_Then the other person in the photo caught his attention. She was clad in a black dress and was blocking his view of the right side of Suzaku's body. She raised her wand and Lelouche saw Suzaku's eyes open wide with panic and pain and a scream that Lelouche hadn't expected to hear. He didn't want to hear. He didn't want that atrocious sound to exist!_

_Then it stopped, and Suzaku slumped in his restrains once again, a resigned look on his face that left Lelouche desperately trying to think of a way to alleviate his friend's pain even though Suzaku wasn't even beside him in reality. No, Sazuku was somewhere else. Suzaku wasn't here._

_How... how dare these creatures do this to Suzaku?! How dare they touch him!_

_He hadn't realized he had been screaming in rage until a hand connected with the side of his face._

_"Be quiet." The man holding the picture barked, gazing at him with cold eyes full of satisfaction. The man had long, pale blond hair that had once been common in Britannian fashion and gray eyes. Lelouche vowed not to forget this man, for he would make him pay dearly for what he had done. As all Death Eaters would. As the Dark Lord will. _

_"You were the one who brought this about by being uncooperative. We see that interrogating you won't get us much information," the blond man pulled the two corners of the photograph he was holding apart, ripping the picture right in the middle, so the Suzaku in the picture was no split in half and the thing had actually began wailing. The sound hurt Lelouche's ears more than any gun, wand or sword ever could. The Death Eater smiled cruelly at his reaction "however, I doubt that you want to hurt your friend more than you already have."_

It was a bluff, it had to be. But what if it wasn't? What if they went through with it?

_No, Suzaku is their best bet against me – it would be foolish to..._ Lelouche swallowed internally, _get rid of him._ Still, the nagging doubt lingered at the back of his mind, constantly reminding him he could be wrong.

He was helpless. He didn't know what to do. All the information he needed he didn't have. Lelouche didn't have Suzaku either. It was the one thing that had come out of that awful incident with picture, when Lelouche had glanced the consequences of any rebellion on his behalf.

Suzaku wasn't here. Suzaku wasn't in the building. But if he wasn't in the building, why would it be a problem to transport him here? This _was _the Ministry of Magic, wasn't it? Which only meant one thing, it was a risk. Did the Death Eaters expect Suzaku to find a way to escape? No. As far as he'd seen they were an overconfident bunch and it was painfully obvious that Suzaku couldn't fight them in his current state – which lead Lelouche to his next deduction: someone was in their way. Rebels? Most likely.

Then, if Lelouche managed to escape and team up with these rebels, maybe he could get rid of this obnoxious "Dark Lord" – but, what of Suzaku? If Lelouche escaped, which he had yet to think of a way to do so, then Suzaku would still be in the clutches of the Dark Lord and their torturers would surely turn their anger on Suzaku.

There were too many "what if"s and unknowns for Lelouche to be confident in any of his plans. Besides, Suzaku could have been anywhere in the country. How would Lelouche get there in time to get them both out unharmed if he didn't even know where Suzaku was being held?

Lelouche sighed and closed his eyes. He could deal with the pain, the incessant prodding and spells that went from tingly to agonizing and the bitter tasting potions. He could even deal with being sliced open. What Lelouche couldn't deal with, however, was not knowing and consequentially fretting over his best friend. He loathed being so helpless.

And if he did manage to escape, if he met up with these curious rebels or even if he gave Voldemort what he wanted – if he formed a contract with him – it was questionable as to what fate would befall his best and only friend.

Lelouche couldn't risk it.

He couldn't risk losing Suzaku.

* * *

The imposter of one Mafalda Hopkirk, employee of the now corrupt Ministry of Magic, was appealed to say the least. So shocked in fact, that she almost gave herself away to the ministry official besides her. It was a good thing Hermione Granger was such a cool-headed individual.

It was also a good thing that she hadn't dropped the coffee she'd been carrying.

From what her furiously working brain had managed to gather, she was part of some sort of research division, but Mafalda was obviously minor in whatever they were doing down there in the Department of Mysteries – since she was, after all, carrying coffee. Commander-in-Chief of the Improper Use of Magic Office obviously didn't get her very far. Still, she had wondered what someone working in a department for misuse of magic would be going down in the Department of Mysteries.

A shiver ran down her spine, both from the low temperature and the memories the familiar rotating room brought up. But it was when they entered the research area that Hermione almost dropped the tray she'd been carrying in horror.

The room she and her companion had just walked into, him holding the door for her, appeared to be for observation. The thing – no, _person _– they were observing made her stomach crunch uncomfortably.

A man, who looked not much older than her, sat on the floor of a cube-like box – _prison _– chained to the wall behind him and glaring at the door in front of him. His cloths were ripped and marred with blood, but he didn't seem to care, simply continuing to glare at the door.

Did he not see the people outside? Why couldn't he see them?

_See-through holding chamber, _her mind supplied through the numbness that was quickly swallowing her thoughts, _generally used to contain extremely dangerous magical creatures and for observation from a safe distance. _She had read about those in "Curious Creatures You Should Hope Never to Meet and How to Observe Them", the title had been a bit contradictory, but the book had been overall enjoyable.

But... this wasn't some creature – and even if it was, it was inhuman to keep something locked up like that! – this was a _person!_ But, why would the Ministry put a person in such a cell?

Hermione's eyes widened in horrid realization. They were experimenting on humans! The _Ministry of Magic _was _experimenting on humans!_

_Humans _as in live human beings that could talk and walk and feel like any other person on the street. How could they do this?! This was inhuman! This was morally wrong! This was... This was...!

"Ah, it seems we aren't making any progress, as usual," the man – Travers, she'd forced herself to remember – muttered "The Lord will not be happy." Hermione tried uselessly to get her expression under control. The man was a Death Eater! This situation couldn't get any worse!

Travers, mercifully, didn't seem to have noticed her distress. He took the tray from her hands, setting it on a nearby table with a chorused "Thanks!" from a few workers – _working on torturing other human beings! _ Hermione thought in a mix of fury and disgust.

Then Travers did something Hermione hadn't expected at all. He strode to the holding chamber in the center of the cavernous room, opening the door determinedly and stepping inside.

Hermione blinked before curiously creeping forward, towards the holding cell. It made her furious than anyone was treated so badly, but her hatred only intensified the closer she got to the prison. She made it just in time to catch a glimpse of the man – a true look, not spying through the see-through walls – before Travers stepped out, sighing as if disappointed. It only served to agitate her further, though she had managed to get her expression under control by now.

Travers turned his attention back on her then "Come," he said with feigned politeness "it seems we are not needed. Besides, it's so chilly here. I'll leave you to your paperwork in your office so you can warm your old bones."

She nodded numbly, turning on her heel as he passed her and heading out the door.

The old-woman's impostor sent one last look over her shoulder, though the horror was much less obvious, overwhelmed by a concerned, pitying look. Still, she could do nothing to help the imprisoned man now. She only hoped that he would last long enough for Voldemort's fall, then she'd come here and would personally make sure every person who had been put through this would be free. Hermione couldn't stand the though of how much the man must be suffering right now. She hoped he could hold on until then...

…_or that his death was a swift one._

* * *

**AN: Hallelujah! I can't believe I finally found the time to write this! You wouldn't believe how busy I am now! Which unfortunately means it's going to be a while until the next update - I probably won't have much time to write until the end of May, so don't expect any updates until then (excluding some one-shots that I've already written down, but nothing for this fic).**

**Mostly filler, but we're slowly setting the stage for the real action and I could help myself from putting some Kallen/Suzaku interaction in the first flashback! Those two are my favorites in CG after all! :)**

**On another note, I've been getting comments that this is pretty confusing, and I'll be the first to admit that it is. But, someone mention in a review that humanity couldn't have forgotten it's advanced society, especially in two centuries.**

**Well, it did once, didn't it? Have you heard of the Roman aqueduct? ****The middle ages didn't even have proper bathrooms, let alone plumbing. Not to mention school was unheard of, while in Ancient Athens(I'm jumping from Greek to Roman culture, but they're both good examples) every man was required to know how to read and write. When the West Roman Empire fell in 476 and all the Germans and other clans came, they forgot that the society before them and all of their achievements. The Romans knew how to work hydraulics, for crying out loud!**

**So no, I can't fully agree with the prospect of humans not forgetting something like that – though I think it's less likely now(and I'm squeezing it in a shorter period of time). Still, this is fiction, I have some liberty to twist the facts a little. BUT, keep in mind that things aren't exactly the same as in the Harry Potter universe. The changes made to unite the HP and CG universes will be introduced slowly, because the focus will probably be on other things at times.**

**Anyway, for those of you who review, faved and follow this, I can't tell you how happy you make me! I hope you'll leave me a review this time too! Was it good? Was it bad? Tell me, please! I don't bite!**

**'Till next time!**


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